


Say "I Do"

by Luka z Rivii (wayward_dream)



Series: Lu's Bday Drabbles [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier is a good wingman, Jaskier is so done, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23692732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_dream/pseuds/Luka%20z%20Rivii
Summary: Geralt needs to ask you something, and Jaskier is the best hype man.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader, Jaskier | Dandelion & Reader
Series: Lu's Bday Drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706101
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	Say "I Do"

“Why do I have to do this?” Geralt growled, pacing in front of the door to the inn restlessly.

“You love her, don’t you?” Jaskier asked from where he was perched on the gate, watching Geralt in amusement. He’d never seen the Witcher so wound up and was greatly enjoying it.

Geralt shot him a scathing look that didn’t quite mask the anxiety raging in his amber eyes. “You know that. I know that, and she knows that, so this just seems like an unnecessary and frivolous ceremony--”

“But it will make her happy,” Jaskier interrupted. “Is that enough for it to matter?” That made Geralt pause, and he sighed, nodding reluctantly. “Well, then stop dillydallying and get in there. Would you like me to give you a grand entrance?” he asked, flourishing his lute.

_ “No,” _ Geralt snapped. Gods, this was already too much fanfare, the last thing he needed was Jaskier’s theatrics.

“Then go already!” Jaskier encouraged.

Geralt turned towards the inn, took a few steps, but paused with his hand on the door without actually opening it. Jaskier groaned. “What is it  _ now?” _ he demanded.

“This is a bad idea,” Geralt muttered, turning away again.

“Melitele’s blessed thighs!” Jaskier cried. “Just go in there already, what’s the worst that can happen? Honestly?”

“She could say no. Or….she could say yes, and then she’d be stuck with me forever,” Geralt frowned. “What do I have to offer her? Instability, heartache, worry, danger--I can’t do this.” Geralt started to march away and Jaskier scrambled after him with a yelp, latching onto his arm and digging his heels into the dirt.

“You insufferable horse’s arse, you can’t truly be this dense!” Jaskier groaned, getting dragged along as Geralt continued walking.

“Enough, Jaskier, this was a foolish endeavor and always doomed to fail.”

“You’re going to break her heart,” Jaskier warned, and that made the Witcher pause. “She loves you, you dolt, but you’re so emotionally constipated that she fears her feelings are one-sided!”

“She...she doesn’t...she thinks…” Geralt narrowed his eyes at Jaskier. “How do you know this?”

“Because unlike  _ you, _ I talk to her instead of grunting or humming monosyllabic non-responses. She confides in me, as a friend, don’t be so jealous.” Jaskier rolled his eyes. “She would run away with you if you asked. So get your lovely ass in there and  _ ask.” _

Geralt growled under his breath but allowed Jaskier to drag him back to the inn. Geralt took a deep breath, growled in irritation when Jaskier shoved at his arm, and finally went inside. He inhaled slowly, casting about for your scent and picking it out from all the others, tracking it upstairs. He found you alone - thank the gods - preparing one of the rooms for the evening.

Geralt paused in the doorway, watching you as you hummed to yourself while you made the bed. Even just the sound of your voice soothed some of his nerves, allowing him to relax.

You turned around and gasped when you saw him, clutching at your heart. “Geralt! How long were you standing there?” you asked, a smile lighting your face despite the hummingbird-racing of your heart.

“Not long,” he replied. “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

“Not frightened. I could never be afraid of you.” Something coiled tense in Geralt’s gut unknotted at the gentle words, and he felt his tension easing away as you smiled at him, tucking your hair out of your eyes. “You did startle me, though. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow morning.”

“The job was easier than I expected - I wrapped it up early. I…”  _ wanted to see you, _ the words caught in his throat, and the small box tucked safely in his pocket suddenly felt heavy. He swallowed.

“Geralt? Geralt, what’s the matter?” you asked, all soft concern and warmth, stepping closer and resting a hand on his chest.

Geralt sighed gustily, reaching up to place his hand over yours, interlocking your fingers together and holding it over his heart. “Nothing, I just….I need to ask you something, and I’m not quite sure how to do it,” he admitted, raking a free hand through his hair.

You tilted your head. “You know you can always come to me with anything,” you assured him. You stepped back, tugging gently at his hand, and he allowed you to guide him into the room and sit on the bed. You clasped his hand in both of yours, smiling sweetly. “Whatever it is, Geralt, ask. And if it is within my power to give, it is yours.”

Could it really be so easy? Geralt studied your face intently, but he had no reason to doubt you. According to Jaskier, you had reason to doubt him, and Geralt knew he was far from perfect, especially when it came to feelings, and if this was what you needed then surely he could do it--

Geralt was roused from his thoughts by the gentle touch of your fingertips along his jaw. “You got lost in your head, love,” you murmured. “Come back to me. You’re starting to worry me.”

“That’s the last thing I want,” Geralt muttered.

“Then talk to me. Please.” You squeezed his hand gently and Geralt sighed, digging the small red velvet box out of his pocket. He placed it in your hand, then curled his fingers over yours, holding tight when you tried to pull away. You met his gaze curiously and Geralt swallowed.

“I know I’m not...normal, and this isn’t something I ever thought I’d do. I didn’t….” Geralt sighed and squeezed your hand. “I never imagined I would meet someone like you. I don’t...normally think about this sort of thing, but I realize that it might be important to you, and that makes it important to me--”

“Geralt, Geralt breathe,” you told him soothingly, resting your free hand on his chest. Geralt realized he’d been rambling, breathing at a rapid rate. He sucked in a harsh breath, then tried to match his breathing to yours. “That’s better,” you soothed, smiling encouragingly. “But I’m….not sure I understand what you’re asking?”

Geralt closed his eyes. “This is...not my strong suit. These hands, my hands, they were made for breaking, for killing and destroying. And yet….yet when I’m with you, I’m different.” He released your hand to hold your face, gentle as if you were made from porcelain, fragile and precious. “When I’m with you, I’m not….not the White Wolf, or the Butcher of Blaviken. I don’t feel like….a Witcher around you. I just feel like...Geralt. Like that’s all you want me to be, and it’s so….so….” Geralt didn’t have words for it, and he cut off with a swallow, searching your face desperately.

You smiled encouragingly, and he relaxed, knowing you understood what he was struggling to say, so he forged on: “I’ve never met anyone like you. And I don’t….I don’t want to lose you, so…” He dropped his hands and gestured lamely at the box, inviting you to look.

Intrigued, you opened the lid. Nestled inside the silk was a pendant, a crest of a wolf settled on a chain with a simple silver ring that gleamed in the light. Geralt heard your quiet intake of breath and was dismayed when you looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

“Geralt?” you whispered, covering your mouth with your hands.

“Please don’t cry,” he begged, brushing away your tears and gathering you into his arms. “I didn’t mean to upset you--”

“I’m not upset,” you assured him, clinging to him and hiccuping a watery laugh. “Not at all, this is….Geralt, are you asking what I think you are? I need to be sure, really sure--”

Geralt swallowed hard. “I want you to marry me, Y/N, please,” he murmured, tightening his arms around you.

“Yes,” you whispered, and he suddenly felt so much lighter, warm and relieved. “Always, always my answer to you will be yes.” You pulled back to kiss him, warm and messy because you were crying, but it was gentle and sweet and, as far as you were concerned, perfect.

Geralt heard a loud whoop from the other side of the door and pulled away, rolling his eyes. “Jaskier,” he called irritably.

“What!” he called back from the other side of the door, “I wanted to know what happened! I was rooting for you!” 

“Go away.”

“Congratulations, you two! I can’t wait to perform at your wedding!” he called, footsteps rapidly retreating. Geralt rolled his eyes and you giggled at his exasperation, touching his jaw gently and immediately drawing his focus.

“I love you,” you told him quietly, and Geralt went soft. He cupped your face gently.

“I don’t say it often enough,” he murmured, “but I really do love you, dove.” He leaned back in, catching your lips in a slow, lingering kiss that left you giddy with happiness. He pulled away after a bit, resting his forehead against yours.

“Are you going to wear a ring as well?” you asked quietly.

“I was going to let you choose a meaningful token for me to wear with my medallion, if that’s alright with you?” Geralt asked softly.

“I’ll need some time to think about it,” you said with a smile.

“That’s alright,” Geralt nodded, “after all, we have forever together.” He kissed you again, and you hummed against his lips.

_ Forever.  _ You really liked the sound of that.


End file.
